Here are a few more short reviews of books devoured over the past few months.

Afraid by Jack Kilborn (Grand Central Publishing, mass market paperback, 2009, $6.99): Don’t start this book until you’ve got time to read it straight through, because you won’t be able to stop; Kilborn’s brutal story takes you by the throat and doesn’t let go until it’s over. Safe Haven, Wisconsin, which sounds like about as safe a place as you could be, is the site of a helicopter crash that has unleashed a military horror. The few who escape from the evil that is systematically destroying the town must figure out not only a way to save themselves, but also to protect the rest of civilization. I’ve rarely read a book that seemed to eat me up the way this one did. Not for cold, dark nights when you’re all alone, but definitely recommended.

The Pilo Family Circus by Will Elliott (Underland Press, trade paper, 2009, $13.95): Are you one of those who finds clowns creepy? I grew up on Bozo’s Circus, so I never fell into that camp; I haven’t even read Stephen King’s It yet (I’m saving it for a rainy day), so clowns have never bothered me. Until now. Will Elliott writes about a circus that isn’t in this world, precisely, though it shares borders with it. The clowns in this circus give Jamie an audition he never asks for, but which he must pass in order to save those around him. Once he’s in the troupe, he discovers just what greasepaint can do to him. Jamie wants to get out of the circus, but he has to hide his efforts to pull down the tents from his alter ego, who is as sadistic, suspicious and paranoid as you have ever imagined a clown could be. Although this novel shows signs of being the author’s first – the pacing is off, for instance – it bears the promise of a strong new horror writer.

Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino (Harvest Books, trade paper reprint, 1978, $14.00): Yes, I know that this book is widely considered a masterpiece. Yes, I loved If on a Winter's Night a Traveler, and count it among one of my favorite books of all time. No, I did not care much for Invisible Cities. I can admire this book on an intellectual level: for instance, its structure is fascinating in and of itself. Different categories of stories march up and down in number sequence and are replaced by other categories as they run out of examples. And the cities all seem to have the names of women. You’ll be fascinated by the conversations between Kublai Kahn and Marco Polo about the philosophy of cities, ultimately questioning their very existence outside of their imaginations. But this is a cold book, a book to admire without loving it, an experiment in form and language that does not coalesce into a story. It reminded me a good deal of Alan Lightman’s Einstein's Dreams, which to me contains more life and heat – more poetry, perhaps – despite its unconventional structure. Despite my misgivings, however, I came away from Invisible Cities determined to read more of Calvino’s work. I’ve now read one book I loved to distraction, and another that fell entirely flat. It makes me very curious about how I’ll react to, say, Difficult Loves or The Baron in the Trees. Watch this space!

In the Penny Arcade: Stories by Steven Millhauser (Dalkey Archive Press, trade paper, hardcover, 1998, $11.95): Millhauser seems like several different people to me, so different are his short stories from one another. The title story of this short collection, for instance, is an imaginative trip into a penny arcade in an alternate universe, where the machines have a life of their own, a knowingness that only a 12-year-old boy can understand. “August Eschenburg” also deals with toys, in a sense, but the clockwork figures in this tale are never anything more than a form of art – though a very special form that soon becomes entirely dispensable to its erstwhile audience. How does the lack of an audience affect the artist? What does the artist do with himself, what is the meaning of his life, once no one appreciates his work any longer? Does that mean what he does is no longer valid work? This peculiar tale is a fascinating exploration of the transitory nature of work, art and life. “Cathay” sounds like a chapter from Calvino’s Invisible Cities, only told with a greater grace and beauty. And a few stories seem to be completely realistic, with no touch of the fantastic: “The Sledding Party,” for instance, about a teenagers’ winter bash, or “A Protest Against the Sun,” about a family’s outing to the beach on a hot summer day. These stories are extraordinary.

The Rhinoceros Who Quoted Nietzsche and Other Odd Acquaintances by Peter S. Beagle (Tachyon Publications, trade paper, 2003, $15.95): I’ve written before about Peter S. Beagle’s short stories, and I reiterate what I said then: Beagle is one of the most able writers of the fantasy short story working today. This small but elegant collection cannot help but delight. “Julie’s Unicorn” is probably my favorite, in which a painted unicorn escapes its frame, but “Professor Gottesman and the Indian Rhinoceros” is a lovely portrait of a lonely man. Even the early stories and essays included here are worth reading. It cannot be said that this collection has the power of, say, We Never Talk About My Brother, but completists will certainly want it in their libraries, and the stories are of a quality that will make any fantasy reader happy.

Trust No One by Gregg Hurwitz (St. Martins Press, hardcover, 2009, $24.95): This thriller starts out fast and doesn’t let up until the last page is turned. Nick Horrigan is wakened at 2:18 a.m. by a SWAT team breaking into his home and hauling him out to talk to a terrorist who swears he will speak to no one but him – for no reason anyone can discern. The situation is somehow related to what happened to his stepfather seventeen years earlier, but Nick can’t figure out how everything fits together until he’s gone through about seven acres of hell. Trust No One is a reliable thriller from an author who is now, after two books, on my list of authors I’ll read unconditionally.

So that’s it: my summer in books. I’ve got another ten books in progress at the moment, a pile of new books I just picked up at Logos in Santa Cruz the other day, more than 30 books from the library, and two lovely signed first editions from the Booker shortlist that my husband got me for my birthday last month. I’m swimming in words, and I couldn’t be happier. What did you read this summer? What are you reading now that I shouldn't miss?